For Always
by annaamelie
Summary: If you have not seen Avengers: Endgame, then I do not recommend you read this. Otherwise, this is just a short tribute set in an alternate universe. Romanogers unite.


**If you have not seen Avengers: Endgame, then I do not recommend you read this. Otherwise, this is just a short tribute set in an alternate universe. Romanogers unite. **

It was a pastime of his. Observing.

He pressed his back against the dark alleyway of the graffitied wall, waiting for the bus to stop.

There she was. Free, yet hidden. Riddled with the horrors of her past.

Steve Rogers, during his visits, would never interact with Natasha Romanoff. Interfering with the past too much would have consequences. Possibly dire.

He was warned against time traveling the first time he inquired about it. Yet, as he continued to assure that this was what he absolutely wanted, less and less people began advising against it. No use, they would mumble.

The few that knew Steve Rogers, the few that truly knew him, would attempt to do anything, anything to relieve him of his pain, to move forward. Yet, he would always go back. Through time traveling, he briefly didn't feel as if he was trapped in his own skin, unable to escape the horrors and limitations of his reality.

Seeing Natasha walk down the sidewalk, her shoulder-length black wig swinging with every frivolous bounce, forced Steve Rogers to smile. This was his deadly addiction. Whenever he wasn't looking over Natasha, he felt an excruciating, sharp pain in his heart. The type of pain that would dull when he came back, yet would never fade away- a pestering phantom. He longed to go back to the days when they would sit on any New York City rooftop, observing the skyline as they revealed and released their innermost thoughts, desires, fears.

Natasha's complexity dazzled him. And as he saw her walk down the sidewalk with her briefcase, he imagined her ghosts walking beside her, and he wondered what horrors were particularly gnawing at her insides that day. He never used to admire the way she lived. Yet, the more he observed her, the more he found her method of surviving hauntingly daunting.

The routine. Steve sifted his way through the crowd, following far behind her. She would grab lunch in the city's hub, before making her way to an apartment complex. There, she would rest and drink tea, glossing over the contents of her magazine, before relaxing on a worn leather couch. It was unusual, seeing her true temperament. Steve was familiar with the calculating Natasha, the quick and nimble Natasha. Yet, her movements were lazy, and she turned each page with an exaggerated, unnatural slowness.

Natasha got up from her spot on the leather couch rather reluctantly, before stretching and reaching for a towel. She went inside the bathroom. Steve waited until she turned on the shower before climbing in through the sliding glass window, his joints cracking. He would never touch anything, just stand in the middle of the living room and look at her belongings. Every time he visited, he would look for a new detail, a chip on her purse, a euro note on the floor, a flower taped to the refrigerator.

This time, he lied on the couch and buried his face in her pillow, relishing in her unique smell. On some occasions, she would lean her head against his shoulder, not speaking at all. They would simply sit in a comfortable silence until one fell asleep, usually Natasha. He would place an arm around her form, and he would take some pride in knowing that he acted as some sort of safe haven for her.

Time was almost up. He carefully climbed out the window, making sure to make no noise. He needed to go back to his reality. The reality that she was but a moment in time, the reality that she cleared her ledger through the ultimate sacrifice.

However, there was one thing he needed to do.

Black Widow opened the bathroom door, shivering as she stepped out into the open living room. Her towel was wrapped around her mane, and she grew increasingly tired. She glanced over at the dining room table. She opened the sliding door after she clothed, before doing a double take. Something on the floor caught her eye.

She peeked her head out the door, looking in every possible direction, wanting to catch whoever left it. Had she been followed?

Natasha grabbed the folded parchment of paper and locked the door meticulously, before unhesitatingly opening its contents.

She stared at the parchment the entire night, wondering who could have possibly wrote it and brought it to her. She ran her fingers over the lettering, wondering whose penmanship it reminded her of.

Nobody in particular.

Natasha often thought about the note as the months went by, yet she never mentioned it to a single soul. Perhaps it was intended for someone else.

Perhaps not.

Those two words on the parchment would forever remain ambiguous to her.

_For Always._

**A/N: Fellow Avengers fans, don't be sad that the original Avengers is over. Be glad that it happened. We were fortunate enough to live in this moment of time, to grow with the characters and the franchise. Cheers to new beginnings! -Anna**


End file.
